


Living Dead Guy

by n_nami



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 02:31:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n_nami/pseuds/n_nami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared is a lonely coroner with his fair share of mental issues. Jensen is a dead body, brought to the morgue where Jared works, and at seeing him, Jared knows immediately that he's someone special. Maybe because Jensen isn't as dead as he looks. But Jared doesn't know that, and still brings Jensen home to have a nice, long talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living Dead Guy

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** Mentions of... a lot. Suicide, rape, autopsies, violence, stalking, general creepiness – just look at the summary, there are dead bodies involved here (no necrophilia, though!).
> 
> Written for the [spn_reversebang 2012](http://spn_reversebang.livejournal.com/).
> 
> [Art Masterpost](http://smallworld-inc.livejournal.com/23048.html) by [smallworld_inc](http://smallworld_inc.livejournal.com/)

It isn't like Jared doesn't know he has a problem. A pretty serious one, sitting right beside him on the couch.

A body.

A dead, human body, his head rested against Jared's shoulder.

Holy shit, what had he been thinking?

Of course Jared knows exactly what he had been thinking. That doesn't mean he's not aware that it had been one hell of a crazy, reckless idea. Jared frowns as he studies the man's face yet again, so peaceful and relaxed.

The truth is: bodies have always fascinated Jared – hence his career choice. When they were lifeless and bare under his hands, waiting for him to cut them open, Jared always had the feeling that it was a story, a secret he was unfolding. A mystery he puzzled together one piece at a time. It was always exciting and Jared often felt how his heart seemingly wanted to pump out of his chest when he finally found what had caused the death of the human, be it a crushed larynx or a blood clot in the aorta.

Plus, Jared was kinda awkward around people who were still alive.

But this time, everything had been different -- from the moment the paramedic brought in the body with the words, “Dead guy. Doctor has yet to call it.” and left Jared standing there, staring at the body bag. Jared's shift had almost been over, and thank god for that because it had been 11 p.m. already, which left Jared pretty much alone at the morgue.

“How did he die?” Jared had asked, momentarily confused.

“My job or yours to find out?” the paramedic had snapped back. He had bags under his eyes and eyebrows knit into a deep frown – obviously exhausted. Then, his glare softened and his tone became placable. “Sorry, long day.”

Jared had only nodded, attempting to come up with some sympathy as to why the EMT had, against protocol, brought the guy in without having him checked by an emergency room doctor first.

“We found him twenty minutes ago, down by the river. We guessed he was still alive, so we got him out of the wet clothes and into a blanket and started the usual attempts at resuscitation, but there have been no vital signs since. No breath, no pulse, no heartbeat.”

“Did you find a wallet? Do we have a name?”

Wordlessly, the paramedic had handed a leather wallet and some other personal stuff to Jared. Then he had turned to the door and only tipped his fingers to his temple as a matter of saying goodbye.

“Get some sleep,” Jared had murmured under his breath, more to himself than to the guy who had just left. After putting car keys and a still-dripping wet cell phone down and opening the wallet, he had quickly found what he had been looking for: a driver’s license. Issued to one Jensen Ackles, born March 1st, 1978 in Dallas, Texas. The picture was a biometric one, but even though he stared blankly at the camera, it was evident how beautiful - there was no other word for it – the man had been before he died.

Jared had sighed then. _What a pity,_ he had thought.

And of course Jared remembers the moment he had opened the body bag for the first time. The body-- the guy that lay in there, he was breathtakingly gorgeous, even more than Jared had expected from seeing the picture on his license. A short lift of his eyelids had shown deep, moss-green eyes. That had been the moment when Jared had realized that he should've called for a doctor by now to get the guy a death certificate. It was also the moment that Jared had looked into those big green eyes again and felt his stomach tingle.

For some reason, it instantly took hold of Jared. Whatever it was.

That feeling that this guy was – had been – didn't matter, that this guy was special.

If he had been alive, Jared possibly would have been too shy to even say hello. Because pretty guys? Not really interested in him. He had had to learn that the hard way.

Jared had stared at the dead body in front of him, and the urge to just relieve all the tension and stress he was carrying around because he had no one to talk to had become overwhelming. Before he had even realized what it was exactly that he was doing, he had lifted the guy – Jensen – up and after a peek into the empty hallway, had taken him to his car.

  


The ride home had been nothing but weird. When the guy on your passenger seat was falling from side to side lifelessly, but also looked like his face had been a masterpiece of artwork, carved out of marble or some shit, it was quite distracting.

But Jared managed to haul Jensen into his apartment and sat him down on the sofa. After shoving the body bag off of him, which left Jensen in a white blanket only, Jared flopped down beside him.

“You know,” Jared said quietly as he ran his hand over the short, dirty blonde hair that stood up in messy spikes. “I really want to know how you died.”

Of course Jensen didn't answer, and Jared's voice sounded rough and bounced off the walls of his apartment. Jared sighed. Then he got to his feet and fetched himself a beer from the fridge, drinking half of it in one go. God knew he needed some alcohol right now.

When Jared returned to the living room, Jensen was still sitting on the sofa where he left him, eyes closed and lifeless as ever. His lips were blue, and as soon as Jared had sat down again, he put his bottle of beer aside to trace his fingertips over them. Wondering what those lips would feel like if Jensen was alive, Jared took in the soft texture and tender flesh under his fingers. What would it be like to kiss Jensen? How would those lips feel wrapped around his--

Jared's train of thought came to a screeching halt then.

He was many things, but not necrophiliac.

But this guy-- Jensen, he was testing him.

“What I'd do to get a boyfriend like you,” Jared whispered, tipping Jensen's head towards him. His hair still smelled like the shampoo he had probably used this morning in the shower. “You're gorgeous. I hope someone told you that while you were still alive.”

Jared's fingers had taken on a life of their own, roaming over Jensen's beautiful face. Cheekbones, perfect skin, the curve of his eyebrows, long eyelashes on the eyelids that hid those wonderful green eyes.

“Instead I only get the kind of boyfriends who cheat on me or steal my money. I bet you're nowhere close to them. You look like a good guy,” fingers carded through the hair again as Jared began to tell his story. He took a deep gulp from his bottle. “My exes, you know, they were nuts. I don't know what it is that I'm doing wrong, why I'm constantly attracting the crazy ones. Like Katie, and Sandy. God-” he huffed and drained his bottle with the next drag.

After collecting himself, and getting another beer, Jared continued. “Sandy. The things I could tell you about her. Met her four years ago... Beautiful little thing, she was, and so funny and sweet. I wanted to marry her, even proposed when we were on holiday in Paris. Romantic dinner and all. Thought I could finally live a normal life. Hell did I know that she'd dump me two months later for another guy and take half of my furniture with her. Only left me the mortgage on the apartment.” The cold beer running down his throat was exactly what he needed right now to not go completely crazy. He was talking to a dead body here. A _dead body_. But Jensen listened, and that was all that mattered.

“The only one worse than her was probably Matt, busier with smoking pot all day than spending time with his boyfriend. After I stopped giving him money to buy dope he just stole it from me, and genius that I was, it took me two months to notice. And the shitload of one night stands in between... they've all left once I woke up the next morning. I think I'm an emotional retard or something, I can't hold people around me. The few that stayed were always gone after a week, when they're sure that I'm too much work.”

Wary of it all, Jared huffed and downed his beer. While going to the kitchen to get another one he decided that he might as well rip out the good stuff, so he wouldn't have to get a beer every few minutes. And yes, Jared fully intended to get wasted that night. A few steps took him to the liquor cabinet in his living room and a bottle of Jack. He didn't bother with a glass and instead drank straight from the bottle. The bourbon burned down his throat and into his stomach, warming him up from the inside. Jared coughed and cleared his throat.

His eyes were, once again, drawn to the dead man on his couch.

“Jensen,” Jared said, addressing him, testing how the unusual name rolled off his tongue. “Jensen,” he repeated, quieter. It had a nice ring to it. Jared could definitely imagine moaning that name in bed at night.

He drank from the bottle once again before sitting down and pulling Jensen over his lap, cradling him in his arms.

“God, Jensen. I wish we would've met while you were still alive. I wish I would've gotten to know you. Would've gotten to maybe even kiss you,” he rambled on, his voice a low rolling whisper, his fingers running over Jensen's lips once again. “So I wouldn't have to be so lonely anymore. Everyone leaves me or kicks me out of their lives. My parents did when I told them I had a boyfriend. Sandy did as soon as she found a better guy. But you... you would've kept me company, just like right now.”

Jared looked down at Jensen, studied his motionless face.

And all of a sudden, happiness was slowly seeping through him. Finally, finally somebody listened to him and his problems. It almost felt like Jensen cared, and the weight on Jared's shoulder lifted. Instead he was relieved and quite lightheaded. But then, that may have been the whiskey.

Speaking of which, Jared gulped down another long drag.

“I hate it, you know,” he resumed. Might as well tell Jensen everything. “My whole life. Since I told my parents about my first boyfriend, everything went down the crapper. First they kick me out because I dare to bring a _boy_ home. Then I move up here to get some distance even though I loved living in Texas - I gave up my home just for that!” Jared was talking fast and shouting then, angry at how unfair the world was. He had to breathe in deeply and drink a sip to calm down again.

“I live my life and I try to get by as best as I can. I tried to meet people. Got to dating a few. And every single one of them turns out to be a stealing bitch or a cheating bastard. The world is such a sick place, man, most of the time I don't even know why I'd want to live here any more. But I digress...”

Jared trailed off, stared blankly into space.

After a few minutes of just sitting quietly and drinking occasionally, Jared took a deep breath. “I miss it so much, Jensen. Having someone in my life. I don't even have a friend I can talk to. I'm just that weird coroner that everyone thinks is scary and no one wants to be seen with. Even in college, where I thought I could finally find some freedom and have a little fun, I got to living with a homophobic asshole that bullied me my entire freshman year. And I was too afraid and shy to do anything to stop him.”

Jared shook his head, his lips drawn into a disgusted expression. “I didn't dare come out to anyone ever since. Not that I needed to.”

He lifted his thumb to run it over the stubble on Jensen's cheek. “I wonder if you have any idea what it's like. Are you gay, Jensen? You are so pretty,” he went on, and at the mental leaps and strange choice of words – because since when did he call guys pretty? - Jared finally noticed that the alcohol had kicked in. Good. The bottle of Jack was emptied by a third, it was about time.

But, yeah, Jensen _was_ pretty.

Didn't frustrated straight girls always complain about the pretty guys always being gay?

“If you'd be gay, even I would get my shit together and hit on you so hard your head'd spin,” Jared slurred with a lopsided grin. And, well, because it didn't matter and Jensen was dead anyway, Jared lifted the thin, white blanket he was covered with to take a look at the merchandise.

He had to swallow.

Jensen's body was built, he surely was a guy who lived a healthy life, worked out a lot – and it showed. Toned skin stretched over hard, defined muscles, broad shoulders and a flat stomach. The sight involuntarily made Jared's mouth water, although he had to remind himself that he was looking at a dead body here.

And he was _so_ not necrophiliac.

But if Jensen was alive, Jared would do his damnest to get him into his bed. Would take him apart, piece by piece, until he was a writhing mess under his hands, would make him come with just his mouth and fingers...

Jared tried to focus, tried to get the pictures out of his head, but not to much avail.

In the end, he shoved Jensen to the side so he sat upright again and went to the bathroom to jerk off into the toilet. It had been too long; and Jensen was just too damn hot. Jared finished quick and without much finesse, just wanting to get it out of his system.

Jensen would be there when he got back, anyway.

And even though Jared was well on the way to get completely shit-faced, he realized that he had to take back Jensen to the morgue at some point. Just... not yet, he decided. There was so much he still wanted to talk to Jensen about.

“Did you know,” Jared began once he was back in the living room and sitting beside Jensen with the whiskey bottle in hand, “that my first boyfriend tried to rape me?” Of course it was just a rhetorical question, and Jared knew he didn't need to follow any social protocol with a dead guy, but he still felt like he should. His fingers scratched along Jensen's scalp, the texture of his hair tickling the sensitive nerve endings. “He wanted me to bottom, and even thought I wasn't sure, I was dumb enough to give in. And when it wouldn't work, he tried to force himself onto me, even after I told him to stop. You can believe me when I say that I had a lot of trust issues after that. I didn't date guys for a year or so. And the ones that followed were only bottoms. I'd like to try it some day, you know. Bottoming. But only with someone I'd trust. And how should I find someone like that if every guy that crosses my path is worse than the one before him?”

Noticing that he had talked himself once again into a rage fit, Jared took a deep breath.

“And then came Sandy,” he said instead. “Right after I graduated from college and got my job at the morgue. You know, I met her by making out with one of her friends. One of her guy friends, to be exact, and she wasn't even fazed. And I thought I could have this perfectly normal life with a wife and a house and kids and a dog. I didn't have the problem of coming out or anything, just... everything would be alright. Alright _my ass._ ”

Jensen's head had fallen back against the back rest and had lolled to the side, came to rest on Jared's shoulder. It was oddly comforting and calming to have his presence right here, in Jared's space, dead guy or not. And Jared was happy that he took Jensen with him, that he found someone to talk to. God knows it had been necessary.

And Jared drank some more, told Jensen about his exes, about Richard who had started off as the sweetest guy he'd ever met, but had turned out to having massive gambling problems. About Traci who had left her husband for Jared, but after three months, moving in, and a lot of fighting, decided to go back to him. About Gabriel, who had arrived in Jared's life – and his apartment – like a whirlwind, blew him right off his feet in two seconds flat, and left him emotionally exhausted after an on-again-off-again maybe-relationship half a year later.

Even about Misha.

Misha, the cute guy with the ruffled dark hair and stupidly blue eyes Jared had met during college. Met and fallen in love with and obsessed over, to be exact, for four years. He had followed him around wherever and whenever he could, or drove to his apartment and parked outside at o’ dark thirty in the morning, or wrote letters with his love confessions, just to rip them apart again. Needless to say, he never rang the doorbell or spoke to Misha directly.

“All I ever did in those years was hole up in my room and sulk and jerk off and sulk again,” Jared huffed, now obviously slurring even to his own ears. “In hindsight, I was a pathetic stalker. I wonder if he ever even noticed me.”

He had never told that story to anybody. It made him sound like a creep he really wasn't-- but who was he kidding, he just stole a dead body from a morgue.

Maybe he was a creep.

A stalker, a necrophiliac.

 _Not necrophiliac,_ Jared told himself. Just appreciating what he had here and definitely not taking advantage of it.

He wasn't _that_ twisted.

And so Jared began to tell Jensen all the stories of Misha. How they'd met for the first time, even though Jared was sure that Misha would never recognize him again. How he had slowly but surely fallen in love with the crazy guy. And how Misha never, ever, even so much as given him a second glance. How crestfallen he'd been, how he had tried to get his attention, but every single try at conversation had fallen flat. How devastated he'd become.

“In the end, I even questioned if it was the right thing to do. Coming out to my parents, I mean. Now that I was out, I had a roommate that bullied me, I had fallen in love with someone who wouldn't know my first name if their life depended on it, and I was lonelier than ever. My brother and sister, though, they of course always had everything, because they're _straight_ ,” he sneered. And went right into a ramble about the reasons of why being a middle child sucked ass.

And Jensen looked like he understood each word.

  


It was 4.30 a.m. by the time Jared realized that he should really, really take Jensen back to the morgue. There would be questions if somebody noticed that the body was gone tomorrow, weekend or not. Jensen was dead and there was no need to deny it. Jared was supposed to get him a death certificate, contact his relatives and get in touch with the funeral home.

Instead, he was sitting with the body on a sofa at half past four in the morning and spilling his guts to him. And actually being happy about it.

It's not like he's ever claimed to be the most sane person in the world, but he's not completely crazy either.

So, it's about time that this stopped. Jared is drunk, right, but he isn't too drunk to get Jensen back to where he belongs. Jared is also pretty strong, and he carried Jensen in, so logic tells he can carry him out.

Although he has no idea how he should get Jensen into his car – or, more like how he would get his car to the morgue in his current state of intoxication – Jared gets up, eyes skipping over the empty bottle of Jack on the coffee table, but he decides not to care. He's gonna make it, somehow. Then he wraps his arms around Jensen's body and lifts him up.

  


Jared seriously underestimates Jensen's weight. He is a full grown and trained man, and if he would be able to stand he probably wouldn't be much shorter than Jared himself. Take in the fact that Jared is seriously plastered and it's not much of a surprise that Jared can’t lift him. The thin, white blanket slips down Jensen's naked frame, distracting Jared further because hey --

And before Jared can even blink, Jensen hits the ground hard, colliding with the cold hardwood of Jared's living room floor. The clash and bang is loud in Jared's ears and makes his head ring. Jensen falls onto his back, arms spread wide, the blanket ending up wrapped loosely around his narrow hips, barely covering his crotch.

Then he opens his eyes, sputters, and coughs.

  


  


Jared is struck dumb, staring down at the man at his feet.

Still choking and coughing, Jensen sits up and rubs his eyes. As he takes a look around, Jared tries to wrap his mind around that Jensen is _not_ dead. Jensen is _alive_ and breathing.

And currently in his home.

He is so fucking screwed right now. There is no way he will ever be able to explain this to anyone. Least of all Jensen.

  


Jensen takes a look around himself, his vision blurry and his contacts scratching against his eyeballs. All he can vaguely make out is that this surely isn't his place or anywhere he’s been ever before. It itches too much to look, though, so Jensen quickly closes his eyes again.

“What the fuck,” he mutters confused, and it comes out raw under another bad coughing fit.

“Here, drink this,” someone beside him says. The voice is a deep, warm rumble that would definitely have done different things to Jensen under more usual circumstances. But right now, Jensen's train of thought is only _Thank god, water._ His throat is dry to the point that he can't even swallow properly, and his lips are chapped and cracked.

Jensen still doesn't see a damn thing, so he more-or-less blindly reaches for the blurry glass that's offered to him and gulps down the cold tap water at once.

“Better,” he nods as he hands the glass back. “Could you show me to the bathroom, please? I need to get my contacts out.”

The reaction of the other man comes delayed and a bit slurred, but then Jensen feels a large palm wrapping itself around his elbow, helping him up and guiding him through the apartment. The other man's walk seems wobbly and a bit uncertain, but Jensen is too busy dodging oncoming items and doorways he can barely see to pay more attention to him.

When he finally recognizes something like a mirror in front of him, Jensen washes his hands and with practiced moves swipes his contacts out.

“Ouch,” he comments, examining himself in the mirror. He looks like death warmed over and then some. The contacts are ruined, too dried out to wear, and Jensen deposits them in the trash can under the sink. It's not like he's blind without them, but it still sucks to not see anything past a ten-foot radius. It's only then, when Jensen looks into the mirror again, that he realizes two things.

One, he's only wearing a thin, cotton sheet.

Two, there's a creepy tall guy standing behind him, staring at him as if he was a ghost.

The sheet is kinda more important right now, though.

“Why the hell am I naked under this?” Jensen asks tensed.

“Uhm... because, uh- I mean. Uh. Your clothes were soaking wet,” the giant stutters, not meeting Jensen's eyes. His voice is a warm, slurred mumble with a clear resemblance to home for Jensen, although he's unable to pinpoint down why at the moment.

“Wet?” Jensen questions, more to himself than to the strange man. What had he been doing before--

Mike.

Mike, that asshole from work. The bridge.

“They found you by the river,” the man says.

Now that the contacts are gone, Jensen has the time to take a better look at him. Freakishly tall, chiseled features, slanted blue-green-ish eyes and floppy brown hair. And, obviously built. Quite the sight for sore eyes, literally and metaphorically. A small smile spreads on Jensen's lips as his eyes wander up and down the man's body. Then he quickly reminds himself that he's at this guy's place, has no idea how he got here, and that he's only wearing a thin blanket.

“And who are you anyway?” Jensen blurts out as he turns around. He holds the sheet up with one hand and probably looks more than ridiculous.

“I'm Jared. Uh, Padalecki. Sorry, I-”

“And why the hell am I at your place? Naked?” Jensen's frown deepens. Something he doesn't remember is very, very off here.

“Uhm.... it's a long story?” Jared offers before a burp escapes his lips.

Jensen regards him carefully and finally, the pieces slot together. The smell around here. The fact that Jared seems very unsure on his feet and draws the vowels in his words out longer than necessary. “Are you drunk?”

“Maybe... a bit.”

Jensen shakes his head and pushes past him and out into the hallway. Jared is taller than him, the strands of his brown hair falling in soft locks into his face. Just about the type Jensen would be chatting up if they had met in a bar. But right now? Jensen is so not in the mood.

“Fuck this. Can I have my stuff back? Then I'll be out of your hair. Please,” Jensen asks impatiently. This is ridiculous.

After a moment of pondering and blinking, Jared mumbles, “I don't have your stuff, sorry.”

“Then where is it?” Jensen breathes in and out deeply, trying to control his uprising temper.

“At the morgue,” the other man answers as if it was the most natural thing to say, and Jensen perks up at that.

“The morgue? I was in a morgue?” he shakes his head in disbelief.

But Jared, seemingly having found some footing in this conversation, nods enthusiastically and begins to gesture wildly. “Yeah! You were in a morgue, and they thought you were dead but-”

Jensen's train of thought comes to a screeching halt. “Who said I was dead?”

“The paramedic who brought you in. I believed him.”

“You thought I was _dead_? And how exactly did I end up at your place _then_?”

“I... took you home. Felt something wasn't-”

Okay, now that's downright insane. And creepy as fuck. “Dude, you do that often? Take dead guys home? God, what did you--” Jensen leaves the sentence half-finished and slips his hand under the sheet, trailing over his ass. “You didn't-?”

Jared's eyes widen with confusion at that, but after another moment, the penny drops. “What? No, _god, no,_ of course not! I don't- I wouldn't!”

And Jensen knows what a sore ass feels like, and he's perfectly fine. He looks Jared up and down. And, well, if the guy is proportionate, he would definitely be sore.

It still doesn't explain why the guy packed Jensen into his car and brought him here. “Then why am I here?”

Jared breaks the eye contact for the first time in their conversation, looking guiltily at the floor. He doesn't answer, though.

“Why am I here?” Jensen repeats, raising his voice. “Why would you steal a supposedly dead body from a morgue? How did you even get into a morgue, you creep?”

The provocation does what it's supposed to. Jared's shoulders slump down. “I work there, I'm a coroner. But I'm not insane and I'm not a creep- well, maybe a bit – but I'm not crazy! I swear! It was totally an impulsive reaction, I’ve never done this before, I never will ever again. Please, please don't call the cops on me. I wanted to take you back to the morgue anyway.”

Okay, so that's a bit to take in.

“God, I need a beer,” Jensen huffs, exasperated.

“Fridge,” Jared the creepy giant says. His eyes are wide as they follow Jensen, the kicked puppy look he has going on really tugging on Jensen's heartstrings, even though he knows there's so much wrong with this guy.

Jensen helps himself to a bottle of beer and twists off the cap. After a few long drags, he feels ready to take on the discussion again.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn't have you arrested,” Jensen says quietly, without looking at Jared. “You basically _kidnapped_ me.”

Jared doesn't answer for a few long moments, during which Jensen takes another sip of his beer and turns around, facing him. Jared is obviously nervous, almost on the verge of freaking out, and he's looking at Jensen with his eyes begging for sympathy and for understanding. Truth is, Jensen tries, he really does, because Jared doesn't seem like a bad person. Like a person who steals bodies from a morgue and does twisted things to them, that is.

“I just-” Jared starts, rubs his eyes with the balls of his hands. “God, I'm too drunk and tired for this.”

“Why did you drink when you wanted to return me to the morgue anyway?” The thought still makes Jensen shiver, him supposedly being left for dead.

“I needed to, or I wouldn't have been able to--” Jared stops, leaves the sentence unfinished and presses his mouth shut.

“To what?” Jensen presses him. “If you're not a necrophiliac who wanted to rape me, so what else would you do with a dead body in your apartment?”

Jared swallows, and Jensen's gaze drops involuntarily to his bopping Adam's apple. When Jared eventually speaks, it's so quiet that Jensen has to strain himself to hear what he says.

“I just talked to you.”

Jensen has to blink a few times to process that. “Just... to talk?”

“Yeah,” Jared nods, eyes finally finding Jensen's again. “It's not like I have anyone else to talk to. So you can sue me for being lonely. Or something.”

It's Jensen's turn to swallow. Loneliness is something he can definitely relate to, even though he never got that desperate that he stole a body from a morgue. He doesn't answer, is at a loss for words.

Jared clears his throat. “So anyway, I think we should better get you home.”

“If my stuff is at the morgue, how should I even get into my apartment? I've got no money, I need my glasses, and I don't even have clothes on. And it's early morning. Plus, you're not in a state to bring me anywhere,” Jensen reasons. Without his stuff, he isn't going anywhere, and he needs Jared to get said stuff.

“That's... you're right. You can have the guest room. I have a key for that, so you can lock it if you don't-- anyway. Let me just get you some clothes.”

Jared stares onto the floor when he passes by Jensen, refusing to meet his eyes. A soft cotton shirt and boxers are shoved into Jensen's arms when he returns, but Jared still doesn't look at him.

“I'm so sorry, Jensen,” he says, his feet shuffling and toeing at the tiles on the floor, “Please give me the chance to talk about this in the morning.” He sounds sincere.

Jensen wordlessly takes the clothes from Jared's arms and leaves for the bathroom to change. He has to think about this.

He doesn't know if he really wants to talk this out with Jared. Hey, at best, he'll get out tomorrow and never see this guy again, he thinks as he pulls on the boxers. Maybe he'll get to look back and laugh at this whole situation one day, write it off as an odd occasion.

But.

Jared is not a bad person, Jensen can tell. There's something about him that Jensen recognizes in himself, and he wants to find out more about him. With his head stuck half-way in the t-shirt, the thought quite startles Jensen.

Also, even the best liar couldn’t pull this off like Jared did. Not while being so plastered. The empty bottle of Jack hadn't escaped Jensen's eyes.

So when he leaves the bathroom, clad in Jared's slightly too long t-shirt and baggy boxers, he looks up into hopeful, slanted blue-green eyes and says, “Okay, so we'll talk about this in the morning. Goodnight, Jared.”

“Goodnight, Jensen,” the other man answers meekly. “Guest room is over there,” he adds, pointing to a door down the hall.

The guest room is tidy, and Jensen does lock up behind himself, just to make sure. It's a bit dusty, maybe, like there hadn't been anyone sleeping in here for a while.

It'sp still the softest bed ever when Jensen slides under the covers and pulls them up to his chin.

  


When Jensen wakes up, it's ten a.m. - according to the small alarm clock on the bedside table - and his stomach is reminding him with a loud growl that he hasn't eaten in... probably a long time.

So he scrambles to his feet, rubs his eyes and remembers once again that he hasn't got his glasses or contacts. But it's going to work one way or another.

In the bathroom, after relieving himself, Jensen finds a spare toothbrush and decides that he'll just pay back Jared for it later. He washes up, which makes him feel definitely more human again, and subsequently stumbles into the kitchen.

Eggs and bacon are in the fridge, and the sight of them makes Jensen sigh happily. Jared's kitchen is clean, the frying pan easily found; so Jensen quickly starts up some breakfast.

As he cracks the eggs into the pan, he hears the sound of a door knob and feet being dragged lazily across the hallway. The bathroom door falls shut, and after a short minute, Jensen can hear the toilet flush and the tap running.

With a few more steps, Jared is standing in the doorway to the kitchen and looks confusedly at Jensen. He is a mess, hair standing up in all directions, curling in his neck and flattened down on one side. His eyes are puffy and red, lips cracked, and he has the posture of someone who has the worst hangover of his life. Which isn't that much of a surprise, considering the bottle of whiskey he had the night before.

“Morning, Jared,” Jensen greets him. He can't help but grin a little, because Jared does look kind of adorable in this state.

Part of him, Jensen realizes, has already forgiven him.

And right then, scales seem to fall from Jared's eyes, and he covers his face in both hands. “Oh god,” he moans. “I'm so, so, so very sorry. I don't know what I had been thinking. Please, Jensen, I'm begging you to not press charges against me. I don't want to go to jail. I swear I'm not the sick, twisted motherfucker you probably think I am. Gimme a chance to-”

At that point, Jensen stops Jared's word vomit by stepping in front of him and peeling his hands from his eyes. He still holds on to Jared's wrists when he looks into those blue-green eyes and says earnestly, “Jared. I'm not going anywhere. We'll talk, okay? But first, how about some breakfast?”

Jared sniffs, and he looks more like a kicked puppy than ever. Admittedly, Jensen has to fight a few urges when Jared looks to the stove and mumbles, “Why are you so damn nice to me? I don't deserve this.”

“Maybe it's Stockholm syndrome,” Jensen jokes, but doesn't manage to make Jared smile.

He's rather distracted. “Is that bacon?”

“Yup,” Jensen confirms and throws the first strip into the pan, followed by another few.

The smell of the thin strips frying to a crisp is not what Jared can handle right now, it seems. “'scuse me,” he says quickly, pressing his hand over his mouth and hurries off to the bathroom.

And when Jensen hears the distinctive sound of someone retching and emptying his stomach into the toilet bowl, he can't help but feel like Jared had what was coming to him. But there's enough pity in him to follow Jared.

“You okay?” he asks tentatively.

“I'm fine, just...” Jared trails off, hangs his head over the toilet as another wave of nausea makes him puke again.

“I'll make you some tea,” Jensen says with a soft smile and returns to the kitchen to do just that. And have breakfast without Jared.

When he's done with eating, Jared shows up again, an old cleaning bucket under his arm.

Jensen stops loading the dishwasher and eyes him carefully. “Feeling better?”

“A bit,” Jared nods. “You're still here.” He sounds surprised.

“I still haven't got my stuff,” Jensen counters.

“Oh, right.” And with that, Jared drags his feet to the living room, flops down on the couch.

Jensen can hear the empty bottles clinking against each other as Jared shoves them aside. He follows Jared, sits down beside him. “Do you still want to talk about this?”

“Of course,” Jared answers with a slow, tired smile. “Sorry for being a creep.”

Jensen raises an eyebrow at him, dismisses him with a shake of his head. “And you really just talked to me?”

“As pathetic as that sounds, yes. When the EMT brought you into the morgue, I just kinda... opened the body bag, couldn't feel any pulse or breath, but you seemed so different than any other body I've ever seen,” Jared huffs then. “Maybe because you only were in suspended animation. Your death hadn't been confirmed yet, and instead of getting a doctor to check that you're really dead, I just... grabbed you and made a run for it on impulse. Felt like...” he trails off, stares into the floor.

Nodding to himself, Jensen looks at him and can see no insincerity whatsoever there, as much as he's searching for it. “Wow, you really aren't a necrophiliac,” he states with a small smile.

Jared turns towards him, then, and smiles back. It's a nice smile, Jensen notices.

“How did you end up in that river, anyway?” Jared asks.

It's Jensen's turn to break the eye contact then, biting his bottom lip as his gaze wanders around the room. Should he tell Jared? Well, screw it, this whole situation is weird enough as it is.

“To be honest with you, I wanted to kill myself. So I jumped off that bridge, you know, the highway bridge a few miles outside of town?”

Jared's eyes widen. “You-- what?! Why?”

“It's a long story,” Jensen sighs. “In a nutshell, I've been bullied at work from a guy named Mike for years now. I’ve known him since high school, and we seem to end up at the same school, same dorm, same workplace, ever since. I'm a mechanic, you know, and I really need my job. There's no other garage in town, and some part of me still refuses to move just because of him. But, yesterday... had been the worst day ever so far, there's no one I could take to about this and I just... couldn't take it any more.”

When he meets Jared's eyes again, they're filled with pity and sympathy.

Jensen clears his throat and adds, “So, yeah, you may be damaged, but it takes one to know one.”

Jared nods absent-mindedly. After a short beat, he asks quietly, “Why does he bully you anyway?”

A frustrated groan falls from Jensen's lips before he can stop it. “Well, a gay mechanic is apparently destined to be mocked. Even more so when he's living alone and working with straight, overcompensating guys.”

And when he looks up after that confession, Jared is right up in his space, arms lifted to curl around his shoulder and pulling him into a hug. After the initial shock and resistance – and Jared's grip faltering around him – Jensen gives in, allows his head to drop onto Jared's shoulder.

It feels so fucking good, there's no other description for it. The comfort seeps through Jensen's taut muscles, the warmth of Jared's body so close to his makes him relax and sigh in relief.

Jensen hasn't hugged anyone for years now. Hell, he's been single for years now, and the small town they're living in hasn't exactly got a gay community. At all. Finding another guy here who might be interested is quite impossible.

“I am, too.”

The words are spoken hushed and quiet, right against the shell of Jensen's ear, in that warm, rumbling voice that does things to Jensen. For a moment, Jensen can't believe what he's hearing, but as if he sensed Jensen's insecurity, Jared adds right then, “Gay, I mean. Uhm, bi, to be exact.”

And Jensen chuckles, deep and bitter. “And why the hell did we move here, then, of all the places?” It's flatly not a question.

“Hey, someone has to start a gay community here some time,” Jared jokes as he pulls away, depriving Jensen of his body warmth and the strong arms around his shoulder.

Jensen shivers a bit at the loss, frowns involuntarily.

“Are you cold?” Jared asks because he apparently noticed the tremor that ran through Jensen's body, then reaches down beside the sofa and pulls up an afghan, spreads it over both their laps.

“Thanks,” Jensen says quietly. They stare into space or out the window for a while, awkward silence filling the room.

“So,” Jared starts after a while, “can I ask-” but he gets interrupted by another cramp in his stomach and runs off to the toilet for the second time that day.

Jensen grins to himself when he clears off the coffee table in the meantime, the clinking of the empty bottles drowning out the sound of Jared hurling in the bathroom. He completely forgot about the tea, he notices, and takes the Thermos bottle and two empty mugs to the living room.

He's halfway through the first cup of peppermint tea when Jared returns, his hair gathered in a stubby pony tail.

“I think that was all,” he says when he takes his place beside Jensen again. “What's that?”

“Peppermint tea. It'll be good for your stomach, so try to drink some.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, and I meant to ask- have you got any games for that?” Jensen asks with a smirk, pointing at the Xbox under the TV.

“'Course. You up for some Madden?” Jared grins. “Fair warning, I might kick your ass. I've had a lot of practice.”

“Yeah, we'll see. I call dibs on the Cowboys.”

Jared's eyes light up at that, even though he seems a bit crestfallen. “Damn, that's my team! Wait, where are you from?”

“Richardson, Texas.”

“San Antonio.”

It's Jensen's turn to grin brightly now. “I knew it!” he states, pumping his fist into the air. “I thought I heard some Texas there.”

And Jared smiles at him, warm and happy.

They spend the whole Saturday with playing Xbox on Jared's couch, ordering pizza when Jared has eventually recovered enough to develop some appetite, and generally having a good time. When he jumped off that bridge yesterday, Jensen thought that he was worthless, that his life was exhausting and not worth living, and that he better ended it on his conditions. Instead, he finds himself in the home of a stranger, hours later, and he turns out to be a sweet Texas boy, who, despite his own issues, is a joy to be around. Who's tall and goofy and has a wide smile and beautiful eyes.

“I'm really glad I jumped off that bridge, you know,” Jensen says quietly as they are both waiting for their next game to load. “Wouldn't have met you otherwise.”

“I'm really glad I'm stupid enough to steal a body from my workplace,” Jared counters, sounding like he's lost in thought. “And I'm even more glad that it wasn't really a _body._ ”

They turn to each other then and share a warm smile.

“How could that have happened, though?” Jensen asks. “Suspended animation and all that.”

The game that starts up on the TV is long forgotten.

Jared shrugs. “I guess it had to do with the river. You were probably so hypothermic from the freezing water that your body shut down to its most basic functions, withdrew all the remaining heat from your limbs to your torso. That also means that your breath and pulse were, of course, still there, but so shallow that we would've only been able to tell with the help of an EEG. Which we didn't run because I... kidnapped you. And after sitting in the warm apartment for hours, and finally me dropping you to the floor because I was drunk off my ass, you woke up from the coma you were in.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Jensen replies.

Jared eyes him carefully. “You seem really cool about all this. Does that mean... that we're okay?”

Jensen blinks at the realization that... “Yes, we are.”

And Jared is so happy that he reaches out and pulls Jensen once again into his chest. Jensen responds with a quiet _Unf_ and a grin.

“Okay, so you're a hugger, I get it,” he mumbles amused, his voice muffled against the fabric of Jared's shirt.

“Oh, um, sorry, if you don't-” Jared starts apologizing as he retreats.

Jensen quickly stops him by wrapping his arms around his waist and holding on to him. “No, it's fine. More than fine, actually.”

They sit like that for minutes, just enjoying each other's warmth and the contact. Jared's fingers card through the short hair at the back of Jensen's head, nails scraping over his scalp and sending delicate shivers down Jensen's spine. In return, Jensen rubs gentle circles onto the small of Jared's back. It's basically cuddling, but no one addresses it.

“I think we should get your stuff back, Jensen,” Jared says after a long time, and Jensen catches himself at the thought that he really likes the way his name rolls off Jared's tongue.

“Yeah, we should.”

“We should also shower.”

“That's probably a good idea, too,” Jensen grins.

“I'll get you some clothes, and then we'll take my car to the morgue, pick up your car at the bridge, and get you home.”

Jensen nods.

They end up doing just that. Jared's jeans are too long and his shirt is too wide, but Jared does a double take when he sees him for the first time in them, eyes sliding down his body before he looks away quickly, obviously a bit ashamed. Jensen smiles and goes ahead, trying not to feel smug and not to fall over the too long pant legs. Jared coughs behind him. For what it's worth, Jensen takes a mental note of that.

As soon as they reach Jensen's flat, they are greeted with happy barking from behind the door. “Oh, I almost forgot! God-”

And when the door is unlocked, Jensen gets thrown over and licked to death by thirty pounds of happy, furry dog. “Harley, stop,” Jensen gasps, laughing when the dog nuzzles his nose into his neck. “I know you must be starving, but don't start to chew on me!”

“You have a dog?” Jared asks, sounding quite baffled.

“Does it look like it?” Jensen grins, both hands carding through Harley's fur. “Do you like him?”

“I _love_ dogs,” Jared states with enthusiasm. Then he tentatively starts petting Harley and scratching him behind the ears.

Harley is, to no surprise, skeptical and sniffs at Jared's palm carefully, but huffs his approval quickly. Jared is subsequently the next victim of Harley's attack and ends up rolling on the floor, playing with him. In the meantime, Jensen decides to go to his bedroom and put on some of his own clothes, some ratty old jeans and a worn black Led Zeppelin shirt.

On his way back to the living room, Jensen also retrieves his glasses from the bathroom. They're black and horn-rimmed and he usually just wears them when he is too lazy to put in his contacts.

  


“Wow, I finally see something past ten feet away again,” he muses aloud when he finds Jared still on the floor with Harley. The image is so endearing that Jensen finds himself grinning brightly and kind of really stupidly.

Jared reciprocates the grin and stares at Jensen as soon as he registers the glasses. “Sorry,” he mumbles and once again looks away. His cheeks are distinctly reddened.

Jensen takes advantage of not being watched by Jared for the moment and lets his eyes roam over the tall man's body. Including a pretty impressive bulge in the jeans he's wearing. Well, so that's that, and Jensen adds it to his mental notes. The short session with Harley has left Jared's hair in a mess that's even more epic than the just-out-of-bed-head he sported this morning. His t-shirt has ridden up a bit to reveal a strip of skin over delicate hipbone, and the beginning of a happy trail down into his boxers. Jensen kind of wants to drop to his knees and re-discover the path his eyes just made with his tongue and lips.

When he looks up, it's Jared who catches him staring, and Jensen who blushes.

Trying to dub his nervousness, Jensen quickly extends a hand and helps him to his feet. His heart is racing a mile a minute, but in a good way.

The tension between them is palpable when they come to stand right in front of each other, practically breathing in each other's breath. Jensen's hands itch with the urge to touch, to hold, to feel the solid body of the other man under his fingertips.

“Can I ask you something?” he asks on a gut reaction.

“Yeah?” Jared replies, and it comes out rough and a bit breathless.

“There's something... here-” Jensen gestures between them for emphasis, “Right? Or am I just imagining things?”

Jared huffs. “No, you're definitely not imagining things.”

“So... will I see you again after this?”

“If you want to,” Jared shrugs, seemingly nonchalantly, but smiles genuinely happy.

Jensen smirks and takes a step back. Jared seems confused at his reaction, but Jensen only grabs a pen and takes Jared's hand in his to write his number down onto his palm.

“Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy, but here's my number, so call me maybe?” Jensen jokes, grinning up at the other man.

Jared laughs, loud and heartfelt, and it's a beautiful sound that makes Jensen's toes curl.

And really, he doesn't want to hold back any more.

Jensen steps forward, wraps his hand around Jared's neck, and kisses him.

  


**Author's Note:**

> **Author's note:**
> 
> This, ladies and gentlemen, was a pinch hit (that's why it's so short). And I was so, so glad that I got it. I couldn't let such an inspiring prompt go, especially if it is one by my lovely artist smallworld_inc. Thanks to the mods for letting me step up and write this. I had a lot of fun with it!  
> The title is borrowed from [Rob Zombie's “Living Dead Girl”](http://howtumblrruinedmylife.tumblr.com/post/36013705798) which I found very accurate for the prompt.
> 
>    
>  **Special thanks to:**
> 
> [vennstiel](http://vennstiel.livejournal.com/): I can't thank you enough. Thanks for everything you've done, your constant support, your honest feedback! These stories, none of them, would be the way they are if it wasn't for you. Your insight on my writing is amazing. You are the Cas to my Dean, and I love you!
> 
> [smallworld_inc](http://smallworld_inc.livejournal.com/): You! I blame you for countless sleepless nights! In the most positive way possible, of course. There I was, having finished my RBB story ["As I Lay Dying"](http://namichan89.livejournal.com/25129.html), and then there was that other prompt of yours, still open. So of course I had to take it! And now people might hate me, because I got to work with you three times now. Not a lot of the amazingly talented writers (definitely more than me...) of the SPN fandom can claim this. But I just love your brilliant and detailed and wonderful artwork.


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